Trick or Treat

When Jim died, I'd been a big sister for 38 years. It was a big part of my identity - who I am. I still get lost navigating life without being "Sis." We often get defined by the roles we have in life - daughter, big sister, girlfriend, wife, mother. The longer we spend in those roles, the stronger hold they have over how we view ourselves. Jim spent 15 years defined in part as "uncle." He was phenomenal at it. I was just learning how to add that comparable "aunt" piece to my life when he died. He was helping me along on that journey. Jim and Kate were young and totally cool when Kirsten was born. By the time Rachel and especially Jake were born, I was ancient from a kid perspective and totally uncool. BUT, I wasn't broke anymore from buying diapers and baby formula, so I decided I could buy my way into favorite aunt. Shallow, I know.

This weekend, however, I get a chance to be "Cool Aunt Judi." I'm very excited to fly out to Wisconsin for Halloween. I get to trick-or-treat with Kate and the kids. Then comes the nifty part. Totally cool Aunt Kate is meeting niece Kirsten in Chicago to belatedly celebrate K's 16th birthday. I get to be Aunt Judi for three days. I worry sometimes about staying connected and close to my niece and nephew without Jim in the picture...but that's a post for another day. Today, I'm just very grateful that I get to spend so much time with Rach & Jakers. My goal? When Kate comes home from Chicago and the asks the kids if they had fun with Aunt Judi - I want to hear some big cheers!

Gowing up - Growing old

Yesterday the swingset came down. No one has really played on it since we moved into this house in Dec '00. Kirsten received the kit as a birthday gift from Mark's friend Paul and his wife Janet. We set it up in the tiny yard at our first house and Kirsten played on it a lot. By the time we moved, and moved it with us, Kirsten had outgrown it. Sean has sensory integration dysfunction and was never keen on it. So we've been moving it around the yard for the past eight years; pushing it farther and farther towards the hedgerow. Every once in a while the little boy next door comes over with his dad and plays on it. We've resisted disassembling it for the past two summers, anticipating that perhaps Rachel and Jake would play on it. Rachel and Jake came this summer, but never made it past the pool. Fall arrived and Mark started talking about taking it down. Tuesday was the day. Both kids grumbled a bit, but in the end don't seem to miss it. I don't miss it either - no one used it, it was looking worse for wear out there, and it was a pain to mow around. I do, however, miss what it symbolized - that I had small children living and playing here. My oldest is preparing to apply to colleges. I'm excited for what lies ahead, but sad to see that part of my life done. Perhaps as winter sets in, time will slow down just a smidge for me and I'll be able to ease myself into being the parent of an adult.

1986

I was in my final year of college and Jimmy was a Senior in high school. That year the Rush Henrietta Sperry Comets football team won the Section V Football AAA finals. Jimmy played left tackle. (Or right? Okay, if you're the quarterback looking at the center, Jim's to the left - so that's left tackle?)

I can remember driving from my apartment at RIT to Fauver Stadium to meet my parents for both the semi-final and final games. It never occurred to me not to go, even if I had to forfeit a beer or two those weekends to cover my admission tickets and parking. In the semi-final game, Jimmy got hurt. Messed up his ankle enough that it still bothered him as an adult. Mom and I were sitting together, when Jim stayed down on the ground after the play. Mom was petrified. I was too young and stupid to be scared. Of course he'd get up - it's just a game and he's Jim, of course he'll get up. He did get up and even made the local TV news being helped off the field by team mates. See Mom - he's fine. Everything's okay.

Jim knew he was going to college complements of his brain, not his brawn, so he had the doctor tape up his ankle good and tight for his last game. He played hard in that final game. It was a crusher - the 1986 Comet team beat Greece Athena quite handily. The guys were thrilled.

Dad found an old VHS tape of those games a few months ago. I just transferred them to DVD. Mark and I watched both games as the machine copied from the VHS tape over to the DVD. Jimmy was right there. I could see him so clearly. My brain filled in all the details of that season that weren't recorded on tape. He was just right there. Then the tape ended and he wasn't. The thing about grief is that the wound remains raw for a long time. You learn to carefully avoid pressing on it, but then it's like running into the footboard on the bed in the middle of the night. You don't see it coming in the dark and then - "OUCH! Crap. That hurts."

Jimmy was just right there for two hours the other night. It was great to see him again. I've missed him so much over the past year. Then the tape ended...I whacked my leg on the footboard of my life and it hurts.